


'cause the fall is half the fight

by FourMoonsWatching



Series: for you i'd give the world, and you know it [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Canon Suicidal Characters, Codes & Ciphers, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Get Riza Therapy 2k21, Get Roy Therapy 2k21, Get The Entire Amestrian Army Therapy 2k21, Hair-petting, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Riza Hawkeye Cries, Self-Harm, Smut, So Much Hair-Petting, Suicidal Riza Hawkeye, Suicidal Roy Mustang, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved Riza Hawkeye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourMoonsWatching/pseuds/FourMoonsWatching
Summary: They endure in stopgaps, pushing forwards one day at a time.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: for you i'd give the world, and you know it [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116149
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	'cause the fall is half the fight

**Author's Note:**

> Props to dragonifyoudare for beta reading this!

Occasionally, Team Mustang jokes amongst themselves that Roy and Riza can read each other's minds.

It's not an unfounded idea. The colonel and his right-hand woman are rarely apart, and they always seem to know what the other's thinking. 

They're not actually reading each other's minds, of course. What they are is uncommonly good at picking up on cues from each other. There's a special kind of connectedness that only comes from going through the same kind of hell, all while falling in love. It makes them a formidable team, but more than that, it helps them express things they don't know how to say, and in a way no one but them can hear.

It's their own secret language at this point. There's a shadow in Riza's eye that means  _ it's going to rain, be careful. _ A set in Roy's jaw that means  _ I've been having nightmares again _ . An angle of her shoulders that asks  _ do I need to hold your gloves? _ and an edge to his voice that answers  _ yes,  _ please, _ and don't let me out of your sight if you can help it, I'm not ready to die just yet no matter what thoughts haunt my dreams, and giving you my gun would be too obvious _ . They understand each other in their woundedness, and it's as terrible as it is beautiful.

Today, there's a heaviness in Roy's gaze, one Riza thankfully doesn't see often.  _ Something's wrong. Something's very wrong. _

When he reaches for a pen, moving gingerly, the pieces fit together.  _ He relapsed. _

Riza grits her teeth against the headache she's had since last night and suppresses the urge to laugh bitterly.  _ Well, not like I'm doing much better. _

* * *

Work that day is agonizing.

Riza's head won't stop throbbing, no matter how much water she drinks or how long she rests her eyes between tasks. The dull ache drags her mind back to the night before, when she'd stared silently into a lamp with Hayate on her lap, her mind anything but quiet.

She shakes herself out of the memory.  _ No. Can't dwell on that right now. _

Riza does her best to stay focused, but her mind keeps drifting to Roy's weary eyes and cautious hands.

* * *

It's at lunchtime that Riza finally gets the chance to ask Roy if he's okay.

She can't ask openly, of course. It's still a crowded room, too crowded for anything but the vaguest of direct questions. But she can make small talk without raising suspicion, now that neither of them are meant to be working, and having Roy's attention means she can speak their secret language.

As they chat about whatever comes to mind, Riza starts drumming her fingers on the table, three beats to represent three letters, calling his name in their lovers' cant while her eyes say  _ let’s talk _ .

He meets her eyes.  _ What's on your mind? _

Her fingers move to the back of her free hand, where the circles are embroidered on his gloves, before stilling and pulling back into her lap. Her head tilts questioningly.  _ Did you burn yourself? _

He holds her gaze and blinks slowly, as if greeting a stray cat. Once. Twice.  _ I could ask you something similar. _

She squares her shoulders and gives him her best "I'm not mad, just disappointed" look, covering it with a remark about a misfiled report.  _ You're dodging the question. _

He nods, very slightly, and rests his fingertips in the crook of his elbow.  _ This is where the burn is. _ Then another two slow blinks and a head-tilt.  _ And you? _ Aloud, he asks in a pleasant, professional tone if she has plans for the weekend. Just a superior officer taking a polite interest in a subordinate he’s fond of.

“I don’t think I’ll be going out. I’ve been getting a lot of headaches, and some rest would be good for me,” she says. She breaks eye contact for a moment to check that her nails are filed smooth, her motions more carefully controlled than usual, though only he would notice the tension in her muscles.  _ I strained my eyes. Think I overdid it. _

He clenches his jaw. He wants to talk about this properly. 

She nods.

He leans forwards. “Have you visited that new bookshop near your apartment?”  _ Meet at your place? _

“I’m planning to go this evening.”  _ My place is fine. _

He drums his fingers. Eight beats.  _ Eight o'clock work for you? _

She nods and returns to her meal.  _ It's a plan.  _ Then she looks back up.  _ Oh, and another thing. _ Rests her hands in her lap, tilts her head deeply enough the motion goes into her shoulders as well.  _ Should I take your gloves? _

She doesn't need to see Roy's nod. The small bundle of cloth he presses into her hand under the table is answer enough.

* * *

Riza has no particular affinity for fire, but she can still practically feel Roy's gloves burning a hole in her pocket all afternoon.

Her headache is starting to fade, but it's far from gone. She has trouble not staring at Roy’s hands as he works, partly to see if his new burns are getting in his way and partly just because she likes how they look as much as the rest of him.

She wants to touch him so badly. To embrace him and comfort him. To tease him, play with him. To hold him back from danger. To wipe away their pain with searing bliss. Anything. Anything.  _ Anything. _

_ Not here _ , she sternly tells herself.  _ Wait for the evening. _

* * *

At 7:45 that evening, Riza is heating up a teakettle.

She's already swept the entire apartment twice, made the bed (even though it was already made), taken Hayate for a walk, and done her laundry, but she needs to feel productive right now. Doing nothing gives her an opportunity to think. She's not ready to think. Not before Roy arrives.

The kettle whistles, and Riza turns the stove down to keep the water hot but the kettle quiet before puzzling over what to keep herself occupied with next.

She's just about done organizing her sock drawer when she hears a knock at the door.

* * *

They're sitting together on the couch, drinking tea. It's odd seeing Roy out of uniform, but him showing up to her apartment in military blue would just be asking for trouble.

The silence is deafening.

Hayate ends up being the one who breaks the tension, yipping a hello to Roy and putting his head on the alchemist's knee. Roy smiles a little and pets the dog.

Riza takes the opportunity to speak up, glad to finally be able to say what's on her mind. In their private moments, they make up for the words they can’t speak aloud at any other time. "How's your arm?"

"It's alright, all things considered." Roy pulls up his sleeve to show Riza the bandages on his left elbow. She gently unwinds them to inspect the wound.

He managed to be careful about the burn, at least. A patch of reddened skin covers the inside of the joint, with only a few small blisters. Finding the bandages still clean, Riza ties them back into place.

Roy tests his arm. "You're good at wrapping these."

"One of us has to be," Riza answers, a twinge of dark humor in her voice. "What's going on?"

Roy closes his eyes and bows his head. "Nightmares again. Same as usual, really. You know how it goes."

Riza nods. Her own nightmares are similar to his. Ishval, fire and noise and blood. Guilt heavy on both of their shoulders. Panicked, pleading red eyes.

Roy nudges her, and despite the circumstances the touch is so sweet it practically burns. "Did I dredge something up?"

"I'm fine." It's not even a lie. She thinks about Ishval plenty. A couple more seconds won't do her any harm.

Roy's expression is skeptical anyway. "What's been going on for you?” He gestures to his own forehead.

"It's a little silly." Riza stares into her teacup. "You won't laugh, will you?"

"I won't." Simple words, but spoken with complete honesty and devotion.

Riza sips her tea. "I'm touch-starved."

Almost before the words are out of her mouth, Roy's scooting closer, pressing their shoulders together. Riza stiffens for a moment, overwhelmed by the influx of sensation, but within a minute she's setting her teacup down and curling into his embrace.

Roy's good arm wraps around Riza while his wounded arm shifts to lay a hand on her back. She nuzzles into his side with a sigh. "Thanks. I've needed this."

"I have too." Roy presses his cheek to the crown of her head.

That little gesture breaks something in Riza. She arches her back, pressing into Roy's touch, and a few tears gather in her eyes and quietly fall.

Roy rubs her back. "Something else on your mind?"

Riza sighs through her tears. "We're doomed, Roy."

"What do you mean?"

She curls up closer to him. "We'll never be able to have a proper relationship. We're going to climb the ranks, fix the country, and fall on our swords." And then she's sobbing as she stares straight into his eyes. "We’ve been at war since we were children. We've got too much blood on our hands to ever know peace."

Roy pulls her closer. "I know. I don't like to think about it, but I know." He kisses her tears away as they fall. "I think all we can do is make the most of what we can scrape together."

"It feels so fleeting. I know we don't have any right to it, but I want more than this." She buries her face in his neck. "And now look at me. I invited you over to comfort you, but now  _ I'm _ the one crying on  _ your _ shoulder. I'm supposed to be strong for you. I'm supposed to be the stoic, grounded one."

Roy runs his fingers through her hair. "You're human, Riza. Everyone has off days. I don't think either of us has the energy to talk through this just now, but we're safe here. No need to keep up appearances. Just cry it out, love. I’ll be here."

It has the weight of an order, and Riza is quick to obey.

* * *

Riza doesn't know how long she cries.

What she makes her way out of the fog of her emotions and back to her senses, Roy hasn't let go of her. She gratefully snuggles closer to him. "That felt… kind of nice."

"Figured it would." He strokes her hair. "Sometimes you just need to let it all out." They stay that way for a while longer, letting the tension drain away until the tangled embrace shifts from the aftermath of a meltdown to any other stolen evening.

"I'm glad I could do it with you," Riza says eventually. She nuzzles his hand as her head starts to clear and she remembers what she was planning on suggesting. "And I'm glad I can be close to you." She knows what she wants, the same thing he’s starting to ask for with signals more subtle even than lovers' cant. It’s an odd juxtaposition, but they’ve made love in the aftermath of battle before, reminding themselves they’re alive and comforting each other as much as giving in to lust. This isn’t so different.

Roy, sharp as ever, picks up on the lilt that's crept into her voice. "Do you want to take this to bed?"

Riza can feel her eyes light up as the gradually building heat that’s kindled in her gut sparks. " _ Bed. _ "

Roy downs the last of his tea and gets to his feet with a grin, pain fading into the background. It’s always in his eyes, some days more than others. She loves that she can drive it back, even for a while. "You're eager," he chuckles.

Riza follows suit, dusting off her skirt. "It's been too long, Roy."

He lets her take his hand and lead him to the bedroom, and in the moment their fingers entwine there’s a bit of lovers' cant in her eyes, punctuated by a hint of a teasing smile.  _ Also, I know how you get when you're stressed out, and I'm not risking another quickie in the closet. _

Roy's answer comes in the form of a squeeze to her hand.  _ Takes one to know one. _ He raises one eyebrow: _ that closet quickie was your idea, remember? _

They undress without much ceremony, Riza carefully folding her discarded clothes while Roy simply drapes his over the footboard. She climbs into bed and helps him in after her. "Just lie back for a bit. I'll take care of you."

"Got plans?" Roy obeys happily enough, resting his head on his good arm.

"Not for the whole night, but I know how I'd like to start." Riza lays her head in Roy's lap, a position they both love, even when it doesn’t lead to more, and closes her eyes. "Stop me anytime, okay?"

By way of answer, Roy strokes Riza's hair with his free hand.  _ Go ahead. _ He's already half hard against her lips when she rakes him into her mouth with the grace of long practice.

For this moment, her life makes sense. Everything is simple and gentle. Her weary eyes can rest, her lonely body can nestle into Roy’s. The task in front of her is easy and does the exact opposite of causing pain. She's comfortable. She's safe. She's loved, she's _loved, she's_ _loved_. Set against the crushing weight of her self-loathing, that feeling is heaven.

She works him over slowly, letting the simplicity of the moment flood her. Nothing else is relevant. There's only the warmth of her lover's body, the familiar weight on her tongue, and gentle fingers carding through her hair.

Roy sighs happily. "This is perfect, Riza. You're doing amazing," he murmurs, and the words wash over her like water. "So gentle. You know exactly what I like."

Riza smiles around him, warmed by the praise. The pattern is familiar and soothing, one they often fall into when they're both hurting. Roy loves the physicality of it, the way Riza focuses so intently on giving him pleasure, the silk of her hair between his fingers. Riza loves his voice quietly encouraging her, the somehow almost casual intimacy, how it blocks out the outside world and its tumult.

She works at a leisurely pace, and they lie there for a long time before Roy's breathing turns ragged and salt floods Riza's mouth. She swallows it easily.

When she opens her eyes and looks up, Roy is smiling down at her, the haze of climax gradually clearing from his eyes. "You were wonderful."

Riza wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and scoots up to hug him. "I think we both needed that."

"I know I did. You look more relaxed too." Roy lazily returns the hug, nuzzling her shoulder. "I'll need a breather, but I'm not tapped out yet."

Riza chuckles softly. "Good, because I'm not done with you. Or that clever tongue of yours."

Roy smirks in a way that's just hungry enough to be thrilling, and Riza's arousal spikes. "I think it's your turn to lie back, in that case," he says.

She does, and then Roy has her legs on his shoulders. He starts to lick and her mind goes blank.

Roy has this down to an art form. His tongue moves swiftly and precisely, stringing together all her sensitive spots, drawing whorls across her insides. Writing their names on her walls, a pledge of their love. Drawing transmutation circles, using their terrible beauty for something more gentle than he ever can outside her embrace. He lavishes his attention and skill on her, making love to her, loving her,  _ loving her _ . They've done this a million times and it still feels unreal, detached from the rest of their lives.

The strange thrill (is it still strange if it's familiar down to her bones, not a novelty but still a revelation every time?) of being loved so deeply drives her into an early climax.

* * *

The night wears on, and they're both exhausted.

Curled up against Roy as they lie in the afterglow, Riza feels more relaxed than she has all day, maybe all week. Perhaps the relief isn’t surprising - it's hard to hold much tension in her body when her limbs feel like jelly - but it's certainly pleasant. Her headache is gone, too, and the endorphin rush has apparently eased the pain in Roy's arm. Not to mention adding a bit of reinforcement to the mess of duct tape, prayers, and mental patches holding both of them together.

Riza knows the moment won't last. Roy will go home. They'll both have to sleep alone again. But for now, they're warm and content with their limbs tangled together and their hearts beating in time, and that'll see them through a few more lonely nights.

Their lives are still hard, their days are still numbered. But Riza knows, deep in her soul, that they can walk this path together.

The part of her mind that demands the decisive closure of a bullet through her brow is quieter than it's been all month, and as long as Roy and Riza love each other, they can hold out until the time is right.


End file.
